A Toast To Innocence
by Asher J
Summary: Punky is now a nurse. After a hard day's work, she runs into an old friend from way back when. Reference to "Another Auld Lang Syne" by the late Dan Fogelberg.
1. Chapter 1

_**A TOAST TO INNOCENCE**_

**CHAPTER I:**

__ **_I_**t was a snowy, windy Chicago afternoon at Northwestern Hospital. The halls were lined with Christmas decorations: cardboard snowmen and Santas on the walls, wreaths on the doors, candy cane and snowflake stickers on the windows, and near the elevator on the fourth floor, a green six-foot tree covered in lights, tinsel, ornaments and a red-and-gold eight-pointed star on the very top. Long story short, 'twas the season.

The door to the drug lock-up opened just then, and out came a pretty young 30-ish nurse in pink scrubs. At first glance, it was easy to think she was just another nurse, except for a few minor details. For starters, there was a blue bandana tied around her right leg, as well as a yellow one hanging around her neck. There was also the mismatched sneakers she was wearing. One was black with red trim, and the other was white with green laces. Lastly, over the pocket of her scrub top, next to her ID badge, was a small, circular souvenir button. It had a black background, and in bold letters in every color of the rainbow, were the words, "PUNKY POWER!"

Yes, folks, this nurse was none other than _the_ Punky Brewster.

No, she wasn't a little girl anymore. She'd been a nurse at this very hospital for the last eight years, and in spite of all she'd seen there, not to mention everything she'd been through in her life, she was thankful to have her job. Nobody ever said nursing was easy, but then again, neither was life.

"Hi, Punky," a voice called. Punky turned around, and there was her friend and co-worker, Dr. Gretchen Maddux. She was an intern: young, ambitious, wore her heart on her sleeve, and above all else, always wanting to do the right thing. She also idolized Punky. After all, if it wasn't for her guidance, support and friendship, she never would've finished med school.

"Hi, Gretchen," Punky smiled. "How's your internship going?"

"Oh, not too bad," Zoe said as she took a roll of butter-rum Life-Savers out of her coat pocket. "I got to assist during Mrs. Feldon's tonsillectomy this morning."

"Really? I know I'm only a nurse, but I always thought that was the most boring procedure of them all."

"I admit it's not as exciting or challenging as double-bypass surgery, but it's better than nothing. Want one?"

"Yeah, thanks," Punky said as she accepted a Life-Saver from Gretchen. "I'm partial to the tropical-flavored ones myself, but these are good, too."

"Oh, God, I am so addicted to these it's not even funny," Gretchen laughed. "Say, after my shift ends, a bunch of us are goin' out for some deep-dish pizza. Care to join us?"

"Oh, I'd love to, but I'm busy," Punky answered. "Cherie and Todd are coming in from Bloomington, and I gotta get my apartment cleaned up."

"Oh. How've they been?"

"Great. Cherie loves her job," Punky said as they walked down the hall. "I still remember the last time I visited them, and when she showed me her blueprints to the youth center's new wing."

"That's great, Punky," Gretchen said. "Well, say hi to her for me."

"Will do," Punky agreed. By this point, they'd come to a stop beside Room 401. "Well, I better give Mr. Nolan his meds now."

"Gotcha. Hey, in case I don't see you, merry Christmas."

"You too," Punky said warmly. After a quick hug, Gretchen turned and continued down the hall as Punky entered the room. Mr. Nolan, the patient she was giving medicine to, had a tendency to be difficult when it was time to take his pills. Some would even say combative. But this time, Punky didn't mind much. In a few days, her best friend in the world would be in town.

It would be just like the good old days again.

"Okay, your total comes to $32.95," the cashier at the supermarket said.

_Boy, when Henry said this store's prices were ridiculous, he wasn't kidding!_ Punky thought as she fished her EBT card out of her purse. Fortunately, she had plenty of money left on the card, so she wouldn't have to worry about food.

Oh, you're probably wondering who Henry is. Well, Henry Warnimont was her foster father, and the best one she could've ever asked for. You see, when Punky was eight years old, her mother abandoned her in a shopping center, and until Henry came into her life, she and her dog Brandon had to fend for themselves. In fact, she'd been staying in the empty apartment across the hall from him, and as scary as it was being on her own, it was also kind of fun. But Henry eventually found her all by herself and took her in. They say fate sends you what you need when you really need it the most, and fate was definitely with Punky when Henry found her.

Anyway, Punky had just started bagging her groceries when she heard a voice behind her say, "Excuse me, I think you dropped this."

Punky glanced up. Standing in front of her with a can of apple pie filling in his hand was a young man with thick, wavy dark brown hair and brown eyes. He also had fair skin, a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee that was _just starting_ to turn gray, and was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved dress shirt, a black tie, dark blue jeans, black boots and a Chicago Bears varsity jacket. When they saw each other, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

_"Punky?"_ he exclaimed. "Is that you?"

"Um—yes, last time I checked, it was," she answered. "Do I know you?"

"Punky, it's me," the man said. "It's TC."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II:**

_** A**_s soon as Punky heard those words, her eyes and mouth widened almost as much as TC's, if not more. That's because the guy she was talking to was TC Finestra, someone she hadn't seen in well over 20 years. It seemed like only yesterday that he was a scared, lonely kid living on the streets, surviving on food scraps, and stealing for this thug named Blade. One night, he happened to be sneaking into Punky's bedroom window, and she happened to have caught him in the act of stealing the jewelry box her mother had given her. In some weird, messed-up way, that was the best thing that could've happened, because shortly thereafter, he went to live at Fenster Hall.

Okay, back to the supermarket. "Oh, my God, TC!" Punky exclaimed once she found her voice. Immediately, she threw her arms around him. "How are you?"

"I've been doing okay," he said as he returned the warm embrace. "You?"

"Oh, I can't really complain," she answered. "Wow, you look great!"

"Thanks; so do you," TC smiled. "I see you're still mismatching your shoes."

"Yes, old habits die hard," Punky agreed. "So, what have you been doing lately? I haven't seen you since the auction at Fenster Hall."

"Well, for starters, I'm still there. Remember Mike Fulton?"

"I sure do," Punky grinned. "He was my fourth-grade teacher."

"No kidding?"

"Yup."

"Well, I'm doing the job he had when I first came to Fenster. When I was a junior in college, Mike put in a good word for me, and I started my internship there after I graduated."

"That's great!" Punky exclaimed. "How's that been going for you?"

"It's a really good job and the pay's not too bad, either," TC answered. Then he glanced over his shoulder. "Uh, say, I think we better get a move-on now. We're holding up the line."

"Good idea." And with that, they made their way to the door.

"You know, I was just wondering," TC said as they got outside. "How long a walk to you have to get home? It's pretty snowy out here."

"Oh, I usually take the El. Why?"

"I noticed how much groceries you have with you, and with this snow and everything, I'd sure hate for you to slip and drop everything. I could give you a lift."

"Really? Wow, thanks!"

"No problem. I'm parked right over there."

TC motioned toward a bluish-green Jeep parked beside the shopping cart rack. "I've only got two more payments to make on this," he said as he unlocked the back hatch. "With any luck, I'll have it paid off by St. Patrick's Day."

"Cool. Think you'll drive it in the parade this year?"

"If it was the right shade of green, I would," TC said as he helped Punky put the last of her groceries in the Jeep. "Uh, say, this may seem a bit forward, but—um, well..."

"Yeah?"

"You hungry?"

"Well—yeah, kind of," Punky confessed as she put the cart in the rack. "Are you asking me to have dinner with you?"

"Well—yeah, I guess I am," TC answered.

For a minute, neither of them said a word. After all, this was the same TC who broke into her room and robbed her. Not only that, when she invited him back to have dinner with her and Henry, let's just say he could've had better manners.

"Sure," Punky finally said. "I mean, I do have some cleaning to do at my place, but I guess it can wait. And I didn't buy anything that can spoil."

"Okay, great," TC smiled. "Oh, in case you're wondering, I promise not to wolf it all down in one sitting."

"Deal," Punky laughed, and they both got in the Jeep. As they pulled out of the parking lot, they were both probably thinking the same thing: like the song says, "Small world, isn't it?"

About half an hour or so later, Punky and TC were sitting by one of the big bay windows at Wendy's, and enjoying their dinner. She had a single-cheese combo with lettuce, mayonnaise, tomato and onion and a medium Coke, and he had a junior bacon cheeseburger with everything and a medium iced tea. And as promised, he wasn't eating like every bite was his last.

"So, how's life been treating you?" Punky asked as she took a sip of her Coke.

"Okay, for the most part," TC said. "You know, I see kids with all kinds of problems, and from all kinds of bad situations, and in a way, I see myself."

"I think I know what you mean. I remember when I first came to Fenster Hall. Lemme tell you, I was so scared. I thought for sure I'd never see Henry again."

TC thought for a minute. "Oh, yeah," he remembered. "The guy who made those potatoes."

"Yup, that's the one," Punky nodded. "You know, I never would've gotten where I am now if it wasn't for him."

"He sounds like a great guy," TC commented. "Have you talked to him lately?"

Upon hearing that question, Punky sadly looked down at the table.

"What's wrong?"

"He died," Punky said softly. "When I was in college."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"I'd just finished taking my finals when it happened," Punky continued. "When I went back to my dorm, there was a message on the answering machine from Cherie. She said she was with him when he went."

TC cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said gently.

"Thanks," Punky said as she managed to pull herself together. "I still miss him to this day. In fact, that's why I got this." She pulled up her right sleeve, and there it was, on her forearm, in Old English lettering: HENRY.

"Wow," TC commented. "Didn't that hurt?"

"Only for a second. But you know, just thinking about all the good memories helped a lot. And it still does."

"Boy, I could never get a tattoo. I can't even stand the thought of getting a flu shot. Imagine, a tough guy like me being afraid of shots."

"Just because you're afraid doesn't mean you're not tough."

"You know, that's what Mike said when he put me in the Hot Box."

"The what?" Punky asked in surprise, which gave TC a bit of a laugh.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "It's this activity he invented to help the new kids talk about what's bothering them. In fact, that's how I talk to them now, and believe me, it works."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," TC nodded. "That's how Mike got me to talk about my folks."

"Where are they?"

Now it was TC's turn to look sad. "Well, for starters, my mom died when I was born," he said. "And my dad—well, let's just say he was never the same after that. He spent more time drinking than trying to hold down a job, and he blamed me for her death. He used to tell me I should've died instead of her."

"Oh, my God," Punky whispered.

"One day when I was six, I came home from school, and the trailer we were living in was gone," TC went on. "He just took off. No warning, no reason, no goodbye. I haven't seen him since then."

"Oh, TC," Punky said sympathetically, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. That must've been horrible for you."

"I'll say," he agreed. "You know, if it hadn't been for you and Mike, I'd probably be in jail or dead right now. You guys saved my life."

As soon as TC said that, a warm feeling came over Punky. "That's so nice of you to say," she said.

"Thanks," TC smiled. After taking the last bite of his cheeseburger, he continued, "You know, Punky, I never got a chance to tell you this, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for stealing your jewelry box."

"It's okay," Punky said. "I know you were only doing what that slimeball Blade told you to do."

"You should've been there when Mike ran him off at the auction. He was great."

"I heard you were, too, they way you kept the money after he ran off with the cash box."

"Oh, yeah," TC grinned. "God, I would've done anything to see him find that the box was empty. I heard he threw it down and broke his toe with it."

They both cracked up when TC brought it up. "I wish I could've seen that, too!" Punky gasped. "You know, Henry always said it just goes to show you that it doesn't pay to be a crook."

"You got that right," TC laughed. After they calmed down, he said, "Well, I think it's time I took you home now."

Punky glance d out the window. "Good idea," she agreed. "It's getting dark out there."

They got up from the table, threw their trash away and headed out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III:**

_**T**_he sun had already set by the time they arrived at Punky's apartment building. "Well," she said, "thanks for dinner and the ride home. I think I'm good to go from here."

"Anytime," TC said. "Need help getting your groceries out?"

"Thanks," Punky said gratefully. And they got out of the Jeep and went to the back to get them.

"Well," she said after they got them out, "thanks again."

"Hey, no sweat. Uh, say, if you're not doing anything, I thought maybe we could get together sometime."

"Well, tomorrow's no good. My friend Cherie's coming in from Bloomington, and I gotta get my apartment cleaned up."

"Yeah, I'm busy tomorrow, too. I'm in charge of the party and gift exchange at Fenster Hall."

"Yeah, that is tomorrow," Punky remembered. "They've been having it every year since I've been there."

"Uh-huh."

"Why don't I give you a call and let you know when I'm free?"

"Sure," TC agreed as he dug into his jacket pocket and took out a card. "Here's where you can reach me. It's got my office and home number."

"Great," Punky said as she took the card. "Well, I guess I'll see you around. You take care of yourself, okay?"

"You, too. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, TC," Punky whispered, and the two shared a hug. After a while, he got back in the Jeep and drove off as Punky made her way inside.

The snow had just started falling again as Punky finished the last of her

housework. _I could sure use a shower and a glass of wine after a day like today,_ she thought, putting away the vacuum cleaner. After a quick shower, she was relaxing in her recliner with a glass of white Zinfandel, wearing her robe, and listening to the radio. One song in particular really got her attention.

_"We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to time, reliving in our eloquence another Auld Lang Syne," _Dan Fogelberg sang.

Upon hearing those lyrics, Punky immediately thought of all the things that happened in her life and all the people she'd come to know and love. She also thought of TC: the scared, lonely kid she knew so many years ago, and how far he'd come since then. She thought of Henry, and her dog Brandon, both of whom had long since passed away, as had Cherie's grandmother, Betty Johnson. She was also a nurse, and it was thanks to her guidance and support that she became one herself.

Her eyes drifted toward the wall near the closet door. Hanging there was the picture of her, Brandon and Henry they'd had taken at his studio, and right underneath was a picture of Mrs. Johnson. "Here's to innocence, and here's to you guys, too," she whispered, raising her glass as a tear came to her eyes. She knew they were in heaven watching over her, and that made whatever would happen in the future easier to face.

_**THE END**_


End file.
